


Verona Waits for You

by lbk_princen



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Relationship Study, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbk_princen/pseuds/lbk_princen
Summary: Two years have passed since the Promised Day. Now, General Mustang and Captain Hawkeye must endure one of their most dangerous challenges that will be sure to test the limits of their partnership: being on holiday.Can these two war-hardened hearts successfully navigate five days on foreign soil with no one but each other, and no mission but to survive-- I mean relax?Most importantly: will they share the bed?!
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 96
Kudos: 169





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my friend for helping me develop ideas for this fic. you know who you are. love ya, buddy
> 
> Like all my best ideas, this started out as a joke.
> 
> Title comes from the song Vienna by Billy Joel but i changed it to Verona bc I loosely based Aerugo off of Italy

_General Roy Mustang_

_Captain Riza Hawkeye_

_If you are reading this, then you have made it safely to the concierge of the Heart of Aerugo Hotel. You’ll find that your expenses for the next five days have been paid in full. I know I told you that this was to be a delicate foreign affairs mission, but that was a small deception on my part. Your real mission is this: take a load off! It came to my attention that neither of you have taken any leave longer than a day since well before the events two years ago, and so I took it upon myself to arrange this vacation for you. No need to thank me!_

_If I hear that either of you set foot in the Amestrian Embassy or crossed back into Amestris before your five days are up, I’ll have you both court-martialed._

_You’ve both worked hard. Try to have a little fun while you’re still young. Enjoy your stay!_

_Faithfully yours,_

_Fuhrer Grumman_

  
  


Roy crumpled the thick stationary of the letter in his hands, jaw clenched. “That damn old fox,” he muttered, though the language in his head was much fouler.

Beside him, as always, Riza covered her eyes with one hand and let out a quiet sigh. “I thought this trip sounded suspicious, but to think _this_ is what he had in mind…?”

The two of them were standing in the lobby of a very high-end hotel in the Aerugonian capital city of Santori. It had taken three long train rides and sixteen hours to get there from the southern border of Amestris. They had, of course, been under the impression that it was a work trip and that they would receive the details upon arrival, but as always, Grumman was five steps ahead of them.

“That’s it, we’re getting on a train,” Roy fumed, snatching up his suitcase. Without him or Riza around, one of the other generals - or, God forbid, _Havoc_ \- would be left in charge of the Ishval Reparation Project. Roy shuddered to think what could fall to pieces in five days without his supervision.

Riza caught his arm as he tried to storm away, halting him in place. Any other officer would have thought twice about grabbing their superior in such a way, but her grip was firm and her stance unbudging. “Please don’t be so rash, sir. You saw what the Fuhrer said.”

It was just like her to be so level-headed in the face of Roy’s impulses. “If he really wanted to commend us for our hard work, another promotion would’ve been nice,” he grumbled.

Riza’s hand fell away from his arm when she saw that he wasn’t going to make a break for it. “It doesn’t sit well with me either sir, but if he was serious about court-martialing us then we can’t risk it.” Disobeying a mandated vacation would hardly get them fired, but having that mark on his record would not do Roy any favours in his attempt to rise through the ranks.

The woman behind the concierge desk who had handed Roy the letter was giving them a peculiar look. “Everything… okay?” she asked haltingly in a heavy Aerugonian accent.

Roy took a deep breath and smiled, defaulting to his charming public personality. “Yes, miss, thank you. We’ll take our keys now.”

The woman nodded and turned to the key hooks behind her, nearly all of which were barren. It _was_ the peak of summer, after all, and from what Roy could tell just at a glance, The Heart of Aerugo was a popular destination. The woman turned back and placed on the counter a single brass key with the room number attached to it by a string.

“Your key,” she said with a pleasant smile.

Roy glanced at Riza, who returned it out of the corner of her eye.

“Shouldn’t there be two keys?” Roy inquired politely.

The woman’s smile dimmed slightly as she tried to parse the question. She didn’t seem very fluent in Amestrian, so Roy tried again.

“Two, two rooms,” he said, holding up two fingers.

The woman consulted a clipboard. “Mustang, yes? Mustang, one room.”

Roy kept his smile firmly affixed. “Fine, then we’ll just book a second. Two rooms, how much?”

The woman glanced back at the hooks and shook her head. “No more.”

Roy felt his stomach plummet. “None? Can you please double-check?”

Riza kept quiet. She understood what Roy was doing - they were superior and subordinate, they couldn’t share a room, it was highly inappropriate - but she was also overcome with a heavy feeling of acceptance. Grumman had played them, and they were just going to have to do what he wanted.

The woman dutifully checked her clipboards and books and whatever else she had below the desk, but still ended up shaking her head. “Full,” she said apologetically. “If one empty in next few days, we tell you.”

Roy let out a tiny sigh and smiled again at her, reaching into his pocket for his envelope of the local currency. “Very well. Thank you,” he said as he placed a tip on the counter and picked up the key in one smooth motion.

The woman took the money with a smile and a thank you, and the pair made their way over to the elevator. The rest of the hotel looked rather old, but the elevator seemed to be a newer addition. Waiting inside was an operator who smiled at them and tried to make conversation in Aerugonian. Roy and Riza only had about ten phrases of the language between the two of them, so the conversation petered out rather quickly as they rose through the levels to reach the seventh floor.

The walk to find their room was silent and oddly tense. Roy hoped desperately that the room would at least have two beds, meanwhile Riza wondered if she could possibly get away with killing the current Fuhrer of Amestris without being executed for treason. It would have to be the perfect crime.

When Roy opened their door, they were met with the sight of a clean, well-furnished hotel room. There was a desk, a radio, and an ensuite bathroom. By the window was a pair of armchairs that looked rather comfortable. Against the wall was a single queen-sized bed topped by a thick comforter patterned with mauve flowers.

Roy set his suitcase down by the desk and turned to Riza, who was lingering in the doorway, scanning the room.

"You can have the bed," Roy said as he shrugged out of his vest. Neither of them were in uniform, as it wouldn't be good for the tentative peace Amestris had formed with Aerugo for Amestrian soldiers to be walking around the capital in full military regalia. But it was much warmer here than in Central, and the material of his two-piece suit was making him sweat.

Riza shook her head and didn't budge from the threshold. Roy understood why - if she stepped forward and allowed the door to close, then it would just be the two of them, in a hotel room, with one bed. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck like he was being watched. He knew it was irrational, that there were no eyes on them here, no councils or superiors to posture for, but it was just habit to be on alert. To carefully monitor the way he interacted with Riza, in case someone _was_ watching. He never wanted to give anyone a reason to separate them.

"You should have the bed, General," Riza said, her tone implying that it was the obvious answer.

A crooked, genuine smile came over Roy's face, a far cry from the polite mask he'd used on the concierge woman. "Please, Captain. I insist. Will you really argue with me?"

"Until my last breath, sir," Riza replied with a fleeting smile of her own.

Soon after, they returned downstairs to eat dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. The food was delicious and expensive and (thankfully) paid for by someone else, which allowed them to enjoy it all the more. When the server came by with wine at the beginning of the meal, Riza tried to refuse, but Roy insisted she have at least a little taste.

“I don’t really drink, sir,” she tried to say.

“Aerugonian wine is supposed to be the best in the world! It’s so hard to get any back home,” Roy told her as the server poured him a glass. “We’re on strict instructions to enjoy ourselves. I think you should try it.”

“One glass,” Riza relented.

Three glasses later, they were back in the hotel room, once more stumped by the dilemma of the lone bed.

“Hm, closet,” Roy said nonsensically, snapping his fingers. Riza turned to watch him open up the tiny closet by the door and fetch down the two spare blankets from the shelf within. “For you, _mademoiselle,”_ he said as he presented one to her.

It was a small, thin thing that wasn’t altogether very soft, and she wasn’t even sure she would need it given how warm the room was. Still, she accepted it, and said, “Thank you, sir.”

Roy proceeded to grab a pillow off the bed, and told her, “I’m going to sleep in the bathtub, so use the bathroom now if you need to.”

Riza stared at him critically. “The bathtub?”

“The bathtub,” he agreed, nodding. “To give us both space. I’ve slept in a bathtub before. When I went west with Nadine. To get away from her snoring.”

Now Riza went as far as to raise her eyebrow. “Nadine?”

Roy leaned against the desk, tucking the pillow in his arms against his stomach. “One of Madam Christmas’ girls,” he clarified. “We went on a little trip west when I was, oh, I don’t know… fifteen? Very out of the blue, I didn’t figure out until later that it was because there was a threat to the bar.”

It was surprising to hear Roy speak so freely about his aunt and his childhood. Riza reasoned that it was likely a combination of a wine-loosened tongue and the fact that there were probably only a handful of people in the building who spoke their language.

“That’s… interesting,” Riza said, because it was. Roy’s life sounded so strange and whimsical to her, like the protagonist in a novel. Raised into espionage by his foster mother, with women of the night as his sisters and accomplices. It was made all the more mysterious by the fact that he hardly ever spoke of it, and when he did he was brief and vague, snips and snatches of information that Riza had put together over the years to form a tapestry of a past that could have built the man who stands before her now.

“The bathroom’s yours for a bit,” Roy repeated, followed by a stifled yawn.

She nodded and slipped into the bathroom for her nighttime rituals. When she emerged in her pajamas she felt a little self-conscious about just how much of her legs were exposed by the shorts. Usually anytime she had to spend the night anywhere outside her own apartment, she had her own room, or was sharing with other women. Roy had his eyes closed when she first opened the door, chin to his chest as his head hung drowsily. He looked up when she stepped out, and his gaze went to her face first, then dropped to the exposed inches of her thighs for only a second before bobbing back up to her eyes.

“Well, goodnight Captain,” he said, pushing himself off of the desk.

“Goodnight, General,” she returned. “Enjoy the bathtub, sir.”

Roy cracked a chuckle at that, making Riza smile. “I’ll do that.”

He retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. He hadn’t _meant_ to look at her legs, it just sort of happened. He had seen her wear skirts before, but none cut anywhere above the knee. The paleness of the skin there, untouched by sunlight, reminded him of her back.

Mouth dry, he leaned against the bathroom door, pushing his head back against the wood and staring at the electric light buzzing above him until his eyes hurt.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would drink less wine.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humidity on this fine day in Aerugo is unparalleled...

Rather than take the bed - no matter how tempting it was - Riza had chosen to curl up in one of the armchairs by the window. She woke with a stiffness in her neck and shoulders from scrunching herself up in the chair. It had not been a very restful sleep.

Warm morning light slipped through a crack in the thick velvet curtains. Riza blinked groggily as she sat up, soreness radiating through her shoulders as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight o’clock, which was a late start for her. She stood up and stretched, letting the thin blanket fall to the floor. Once she was finished stretching, she picked up the fallen blanket and folded it neatly, leaving it on the seat of the chair for later.

She wandered over to the bathroom door and listened for any signs that Roy was awake, but heard nothing from the other side. She could wait a little longer to use the bathroom, so Riza retrieved her pistol from her luggage and sat at the desk to take it apart. She intended to inspect it for any damage from travel and then put it back together again. Her hands were swift and efficient - handling firearms was second nature to her after so many years, and the familiar weight of the gun in her hands had a contradictory dual effect on her. Doing things with her hands - repetitive, mindless things - eased her restlessness, but at the same time she never let herself fully relax when she was holding a weapon. The peace of mind the task brought to her was tainted by the purpose of the thing in her hands.

Once she had finished reassembling it, she glanced at the ammo pack peeking out from her luggage. There was probably no need to carry a loaded gun in the peaceful city of Santori since it was so far south that it had never seen the war with Amestris, but the thought of being completely unarmed made her uneasy. So she loaded her weapon, the clip snapping into place with a satisfying sound. As she was checking the safety, the bathroom door opened.

Roy peered out of the bathroom, hair still mussed from sleep and shadows under his eyes. He looked at the gun in Riza’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “Making plans? Anything I should be aware of?”

Riza returned her eyes to her weapon and replied, “Just being prepared, sir.”

He nodded in understanding. Even if they were on vacation, that wasn’t going to stop him from bringing his spark gloves everywhere he went. The circleless alchemy was a convenient weapon that he now had access to at all times, but he still felt jumpy when he didn’t have the familiar texture lining his pockets. He knew she felt the same about her own weapons. The thing about war is that it lingers in your blood even once the conflict has ended.

Satisfied with her work, Riza slipped the gun into the thigh holster she pulled from her luggage along with her clothes for the day. She strode purposefully towards the bathroom, and Roy drifted out of her way.

On either side of the bathroom door, they both dressed. Gloves were tucked into trouser pockets; a holster was fastened underneath a skirt. When Riza emerged, Roy was sitting at the desk, fiddling with the radio. All the stations so far were in Aerugonian, which was to be expected.

“So,” he said, turning the radio’s volume down. “What would you like to do today?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Riza replied. “I’ve never been a tourist before.” Her hair was down today, the tips just past her chin; she had kept it short for a while after the Promised Day, but had started to grow it out again in the past year.

Roy switched the radio off and stood up. “Why don’t we start with breakfast and go from there,” he suggested.

Breakfast was a quiet, pleasant affair. There were multiple other patrons at the hotel’s restaurant area, but they all ignored each other in polite mutual agreement to enjoy the peaceful morning. Roy took his coffee with his usual two sugars, but still pulled a face at the first sip, indicating its strength. Riza smiled at him coyly and pushed the small porcelain pitcher of cream towards him. He gave her a long-suffering look in return but added the cream anyway.

After breakfast, they decided to have a stroll about the city, and see what it had to offer.

The inside of the hotel had been cooled by several fans in strategic positions, but it had still been quite warm. Walking outside, then, was like stepping into hot soup. The air was thick with humidity, heat surrounding them on all sides and invading their lungs despite the sun being obscured by a veil of grey clouds.

After only a few steps, Roy tugged at the collar of his button-up shirt. “My God,” he muttered, forehead already beginning to dampen with sweat.

“Is it better or worse than dry heat, do you think?” Riza pondered as she pushed her hair back into a small ponytail to keep it off her neck. With this hair length, if she planned to put it up she often had to secure certain strands with bobby pins, but today the strands hung loose, framing her face along with her swept-aside bangs.

“They’re both torturous in their own ways,” Roy replied. He thought of the sharp, parched sting of desert air in his lungs and the scorch of sun on his face compared to this sluggish air that took effort to inhale and clung to him on the exhale. Dry heat raised unpleasant memories of fire and death and that heavy, heavy deadness they both carried inside them; this hot, sticky air just felt like anticipation.

Roy decided that summer was the worst season of all and cursed Grumman for not sending them in the spring.

Perhaps due to the oppressive air of the morning, not very many people were out. Still, Roy and Riza wandered up and down the cobblestone streets, admiring the old Aerugonian architecture. The buildings here evoked a sense of great history and culture compared to Amestris’ more industrial cities.

They passed by a flower shop with a beautiful potted garden on display out front. Geraniums, lilies, and chrysanthemums bloomed, with even more varieties crowding the inside of the window. Roy shot Riza a playful look and headed towards the shop.

Riza stayed on his heel. “General, what are you-?”

He opened the door of the shop, and a silver bell above the door jingled, drawing the shopkeeper’s attention. It was blessedly cooler inside, and colourful flowers covered every surface, even hanging from the ceiling in wicker baskets.

“I like flowers,” Roy said, tossing a smile over his shoulder at Riza. “Let’s just look around.”

She gave a slight shake of her head and watched him begin to meander about the shop, leaning in to smell flowers and generally appreciating the floral beauty. Eventually Riza trailed along behind him until a rosebush low to the ground caught her attention, and she began admiring its thorns.

Apparently turning her back to Roy had been a mistake, because when she searched him out again, he was talking to the shopkeeper, aerus in hand. She returned to his side and gave him a hard, questioning look. He responded with a bright smile.

“Do you remember, Captain, the night I bought all those flowers and you refused to take any?”

Riza tried to gauge what his intentions were, but it was a simple, honest question as far as she could tell. “Of course, sir,” she answered. It had been a memorable night, for other reasons than his call, but she still remembered the relief she had felt hearing his voice on the other end of the phone.

“Well, now you can make it up to me,” Roy said cheekily, still smiling.

The shopkeeper returned with a small bouquet of violets and gardenias, the smaller purple flowers arranged prettily to accent the larger white ones. He passed the bouquet to Roy, who in turn held it out to Riza.

If they were home, she would have said, “I can’t accept this, sir.” Then again, if they were home, he would not have bought flowers for her in broad daylight during a morning stroll.

“Thank you, sir,” is what she did say as she accepted the flowers.

Roy felt a small thrill of accomplishment at the way the corner of Riza’s mouth turned up. Violets and gardenias: devotion, trust, and unspoken feelings. Codes had always been a primary form of communication for them, but he wondered if this was one she would understand.

They took lunch at an open-air cafe, sitting under a fabric awning. They were both grateful to sit down, as walking around in the heat had left them both quite sweaty, and the humidity just made the sweat cling to them rather than evaporate. Roy silently lamented how unflattering the weather was, and wondered how Riza still managed to look pretty when her bangs were plastered against her sticky forehead.

Both ordered pasta, but in different varieties.

“This is really good,” Roy remarked after his second bite. “You should try it.” He pushed his plate closer to her, and watched her hesitate. After a moment, she obediently scooped some of his food up with her own fork and took a bite.

“Mmm,” she hummed as she chewed. The creamy white sauce was much different than the red tomato-based sauce on her own dish. “You’re right, sir. Delicious.”

Roy smiled, but then the smile turned into a more thoughtful look as he picked at his meal. “You know, whether we like it or not, we’re off duty. You don’t have to call me sir,” he said, voice light and casual.

When he glanced at her, she was giving him an evaluating look, one he had seen on her countless times before. He knew nothing could escape her sight, so he did nothing to try and hide what he was thinking. Here, in a foreign country - away from everyone they knew and the life that kept them close yet forever apart - maybe they could finally treat each other as equals.

“Are you sure about that, sir?” she asked, voice careful.

Roy twirled his fork around the noodles on his plate and lifted it towards his mouth. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, then took the bite.

Riza rolled her eyes. “Just until our vacation ends,” she acquiesced.

Once he swallowed, Roy smiled and propped his chin up on the back of his hand, elbow on the table. “In that case… May I call you Riza?”

For just a moment, hesitation flickered across her face, and she thought about saying no. Instead, she inclined her head and replied, “Yes Roy, you may.”

Despite the haze of heat that hung over the city, Roy felt goosebumps on the back of his neck. In over fifteen years of knowing each other, he couldn’t think of a single instance where she had called him by his first name. Even when he was just her father’s student and she was just his teacher’s daughter they had always been ‘Mr. Mustang’ and ‘Miss Hawkeye.’ It had been awkward formality at first, but over time it became familiar through habit, a sort of teasing ritual that they maintained even as they became something like friends.

Then her father died, and she showed him the research, and the formality became sincere once more.

Anything left resembling playfulness burned away from their relationship when they became soldiers, leaving only loyalty and determination in its place. Since those hellish days, since they both began to heal, the playfulness had been able to slowly return.

It was in playfulness that he had asked to call her by her first name. He hadn’t fully expected her to reply in kind.

“Right,” he said, a beat too late. “Wonderful. Glad that’s settled.”

The rest of their conversation was menial. They talked about the things they had seen in the city so far, what they knew of Aerugo’s history, and the possibility of seeing the ocean, since Santori was near the coast. The whole time, though, Roy kept hearing her voice say his name. _Yes Roy, you may,_ she’d said. The goosebumps returned.

When lunch finished, they decided to return to the hotel for an afternoon in. Roy hoped that the weather that day was an outlier, and that the rest of the week would be much milder, because he wasn’t really looking forward to sweating through his clothes every day.

Back in the room, Riza set her bouquet on the desk while Roy took a cold shower. She ran her fingers over the soft, spiralling petals of a gardenia, and shook her head. The sound of her name on his lips lingered in her mind, along with the smile he’d worn when he handed her the flowers. It was incredible how much his guard had dropped since they arrived. It felt dangerous, which made her wary, but it was sort of thrilling, too. It was a shame they only had five days.

When Roy was done with his shower, Riza took a bath, long and hot and luxurious. While she was in there, the grey clouds that had been trapping the damp heat in the city finally broke, and it began to rain.

Riza stepped out of the bathroom in a fresh blouse and a pair of trousers, her hair wrapped in a towel. Roy was sitting in one of the chairs with a newspaper in one hand and a pencil in the other, the eraser pushing thoughtfully against his lip as he stared at the page from behind his reading glasses. Even with the talents of Dr. Marcoh, his eyesight was never exactly the same as it had been before the promised day.

“That’s not in Amestrian is it?” Riza asked as she joined him in the other chair.

He glanced at her, then turned the paper so she could see what he was looking at. It was a grid partially filled by numbers, some in the newspaper’s print and some in Roy’s pencil. “No, I’m doing a puzzle,” he informed her. “Numbers, as far as I’m aware, are the same in most languages.”

“I see,” Riza said. She watched him for a minute as he worked on his puzzle. He had this look when he was concentrating on something, where his eyes would sharpen and a small crease would form between his eyebrows. He often touched his mouth, too, either covering it with his hand or - like he was doing now - tapping his writing implement against his bottom lip in contemplation.

Eventually he glanced her way again, and she realized she was smiling. Flustered that he had caught her staring, she got up to fetch her book from her luggage, feeling the tips of her ears burn as she went.

They spent the afternoon in quiet company, side-by-side in the chairs but saying nothing. It was a comfortable stillness, with the rain lightly tapping on the window behind them, occasionally accompanied by the rustle of paper or the scratch of a pencil. When the time for dinner came, they found their way downstairs and this time actually limited themselves to one glass of wine each.

“I have to give it to Grumman, this is probably the best trick anyone’s ever played on me,” Roy admitted begrudgingly as they were finishing their meal.

Riza chuckled and wiped her mouth with her napkin. She found she had to agree.

When they returned to the room, both avoided the elephant of a bed, and quietly got ready for sleep.

“Goodnight, Roy,” she said as she settled into the chair.

“Goodnight, Riza,” he replied, then gently shut the bathroom door behind him.

~~~

A deep rumble spread through the room and Riza jolted upright in the chair, her heart thudding erratically as rain pelted the window beside her. It took her a moment to orient herself. Light flashed behind the curtain and the rumbling came again, which prompted Riza to let her head fall limp against the back of the chair with a sigh. It was just a thunderstorm.

For a moment, she had been back in Ishval, feeling the dusty structure of her sniper’s nest shudder from nearby explosions. The parts of her back where the scar tissue was deepest ached from the weather. Her mouth was as dry as the desert in her memory.

Even as her heart rate began to settle, paranoia crept into her mind. What if it _had_ been an explosion?

She knew it wasn’t likely, but her first thought was still to check on Roy. Her mission was still - and always would be - to keep him safe.

She felt naked without a gun, so she went to her bag and checked that the pistol was there. Seeing it eased her nerves slightly. She didn’t take it, but she left it out, easy to grab if the need should arise. From there she went to the bathroom and lightly rapped on the door.

Her voice caught in her throat when she went to speak, because she wanted to call him ‘General.’ But she managed to swallow it and instead called out, “Roy?”

After a moment of shuffling the door opened and there he stood in his pajamas, a tank top and soft-looking blue drawstring pants. Riza’s eyes traced the bareness of his arm propped against the doorframe for only a split second before flickering to his tired expression.

“What is it, Cap… Riza?” Roy corrected himself, scratching at the back of his head.

“Just checking on you. Sorry to disturb your sleep,” Riza said.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.” He attempted a smile.

“Oh, is the bathtub not comfortable?” she teased. “The chair isn’t either, if I’m honest.”

Roy glanced past her towards the chair and the blanket she’d left in a rumpled pile on the floor in front of it. “Rather unfortunate that neither of us can get a good night’s sleep,” he sighed.

Riza stood very still as she measured with her eyes the precise amount of centimetres between her chest and Roy’s. It was about two centimetres closer than they normally permitted themselves to be. She didn’t move to correct it, and neither did he.

Another lightning strike flashed through the curtain, followed closely by a thunderclap, even louder than the previous two. Riza didn’t flinch, but her trigger finger twitched slightly.

“Quite the storm,” Roy murmured conversationally. She could see the echo of dread in his eyes and knew that he heard the explosions too, even if he was maintaining his composure well.

Riza knew that if it kept up like this, she would want to keep checking on him. She sighed softly.

“Let’s just share the bed,” she conceded. “We won’t get any sleep otherwise, at this rate.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly with concern. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” They both knew he would never do anything untoward, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about the implications.

“The chair is uncomfortable, Roy,” she replied dryly. “And as long as you’re in the bathtub, I’m in the chair.”

He shook his head at her. “Stubborn,” he muttered. “Alright, fine. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“I’m sure,” she reassured him. They both continued to stand there for a moment, then Riza turned, crossed the room to the far side of the bed, and pulled the comforter down enough to slide between the cool sheets.

Roy minced his steps as he approached the other side, and they both avoided the other’s gaze as he joined her under the covers. If they had been in Amestris, this would have been wildly inappropriate, considering everything. It was still technically inappropriate, but they were so far from anyone who would know, anyone who would care, that it was easy to do anyway. Dangerously easy.

The good news was that the bed was queen-sized, so as long as they both kept to their own side, there would still be half an arm’s length between them. It was half an arm’s length of plausible deniability.

"Goodnight," Riza murmured. She turned on her side, facing away from him, though she could still feel his presence in the bed, a weight and warmth that eased her mind despite the flashbacks that gripped her chest like a vice.

"Goodnight," Roy echoed. He followed her lead and put his back to her.

The rain continued to drum on the window, eventually lulling them to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hear you saying "bed sharing achieved! but... there's five more chapters left?" and my response is this: physically being in a bed together is just the tip of the bed sharing iceberg, my friend.


	3. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode - I mean chapter - where they go to the beach. Featuring rude locals.

The morning came quietly, the rain easing and clouds lifting just before dawn. Riza drowsed awake tangled in blankets, and she glanced over to see Roy with his back to her and still asleep as far as she could tell. The blankets were only partially covering him though, and Riza felt a small twinge of embarrassment at having accidentally hogged. She carefully disentangled herself and slipped out of the bed. For a moment she considered tugging the blanket up around him, but decided against it in the end. It wasn’t as though the room was cold, and he seemed to be sleeping fine without it; she didn’t want to wake him.

When Roy did wake, it was to the soft chatter of the radio. He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into the pillow with a soft groan. After a few seconds of that he came up for air and blinked blearily at where he could see Riza on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“What’cha doin?” he asked groggily. He curved his body around to rest his head on his own bicep so he could watch her.

Riza glanced at him briefly before returning to whatever she was doing on the floor. “Good morning. I’m just sorting some of my things.”

“Mmm,” Roy hummed sleepily, his eyes drooping once more. “It stopped raining?”

“Yes sir,” Riza said. “Sorry. Yes, it has.”

“It’s fine,” Roy murmured, softer than he intended.

She shot him a glance, one that he couldn’t read but that definitely shook him a little more awake.

He cleared his throat and dragged himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I just hope it won’t be so damn hot today,” he said. “Think we could have them bring breakfast up to us?”

“You just don’t want to get dressed,” Riza accused.

“I just don’t want to sweat through any more of my nice civilian clothes,” Roy corrected as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “I only have so many shirts, you know.”

She chuckled at him. “I’m sure the hotel has a laundry service. I’ll call down about breakfast.”

While they waited for their room service, Roy watched Riza pack all her neatly folded clothes back into her luggage. When he asked her why it needed reorganizing, she admitted that it didn’t, and she just needed something to do.

“Didn’t you bring a book?” he asked.

“Sometimes the mind can only be settled with a task for the hands,” she answered wisely. He cracked a smile at her, and she replied with a small one of her own.

Over breakfast they decided today would be the day they visited the beach. Neither of them had brought swimsuits, because of course they thought they were coming here for work. When Roy offered to buy her one, Riza declined, citing that she didn’t plan on going further into the water than her knees.

At the concierge desk they asked the best way to get to the beach, and the woman advised them to take the streetcar down to the pier.

Thankfully when they stepped out of the hotel just after nine o’clock, they were met by a balmy but pleasant breeze, still warm but not sweltering like the day before.

Electric streetcars were not so much a thing in Amestris, since their country had proudly revolutionized the petrol-fueled automobile, which then of course became _the_ way to get around locally. Riza had seen perhaps three cars since arriving in Aerugo - the popular modes of transportation here appeared to be bicycle, horse, and streetcar. Perhaps that had something to do with why the air was so clean for a capital city.

She had seen the streetcars running on some of the bigger roads: these large carriages that moved on rails like little trains, attached to overhead cables that she’d first mistaken for power lines.

Together, Riza and Roy boarded the streetcar and handed their aerus to the fare collector, who tugged on the brim of his cap at them in thanks. The carriage was half full, with most of the seats taken and a couple people electing to stand. A sturdy cord was run through loops on the roof to afford the standing passengers something to grip for balance. Riza hesitated for just a moment, unsure where to sit, when the trolley jerked forward, sending her stumbling back into Roy.

Her back hit his chest and immediately his hands came up around her arms to support her. Her heart caught in her throat at the contact; his hands were warm and sturdy, as was the broad chest behind her. Too quickly - but also not quickly enough - she caught her balance and pulled away from him, putting a few steps between them. He released her with no resistance, and she avoided looking at him as she grabbed the cord dangling above her and tucked a stray hair back behind her ear.

“Sorry. Thanks.” As she said it, she snuck a look at him and they both glanced away again when their eyes briefly met.

“Not to worry,” he murmured, taking up a position beside her a healthy three feet away. He also reached up to hold the cord.

Their awkward silence was filled by the _klack-ka-klack_ of the streetcar’s wheels as it traveled along its narrow track and the murmured conversations of the other passengers. Eventually Riza pointed out one of the windows at the clock tower they’d passed on their walk the day before, and the tension between them eased slightly.

As the streetcar turned, Roy had to move one leg back to keep his balance. As he did so he accidentally stepped on a man’s foot, a fact which he was alerted to by Aerugonian curses being flung at his back. He quickly removed his foot and turned around to apologise.

“Very sorry, sir,” Roy said to the grizzled old man. “This is my first time riding one of these and it’s a little disorienting. It won’t happen a-”

 _“Amestriano,”_ the old man hissed. Now that Roy was looking at him properly, he could see the man had puckered and knotted scars all across his face, as well as one milky eye. The way he sat rigidly straight despite his age implied military, even in civilian clothes. The scorn and disgust on his scarred face led Roy to believe he may have fought in the war with Amestris.

“Once again, I apologise. _Scuse,”_ Roy said with an even tone, tossing in the Aerugonian apology once he remembered it.

He turned his back to the man once more. There was an ugly, throaty noise from the veteran followed by a wad of spit splatting on the floor of the streetcar, directly beside Roy’s foot.

 _“Barbari,”_ the man spat.

Roy glanced at the spit for just a second before raising his head again and looking forward, expression carefully neutral. Riza watched him, as always taking her cue from him, and also looked ahead despite the small burst of anger at the disrespect. She understood, though. They both did. While Santori itself had been safe from Amestris, there were many border towns that hadn’t been, and many Aerugonians had lost their lives in the war. Amestrian history books marked the Aerugonians as the provocateurs, but after everything Roy and Riza had learned about the _true_ history of their country, who created it, and for what purpose, they knew better than to think that was true.

Neither of them had ever been deployed to the southern front, and even if they had, there was nothing about them that particularly identified them as soldiers, meaning the man’s rudeness was based solely on their nationality. If Roy had seen this happen to any other Amestrian tourist, he would have spoken out against the prejudice, but directed at him, he was silent and stoic even as the man continued muttering darkly behind him. He would take these abuses, partly because it didn’t matter to him what a bitter old man from another country thought of him, and partly because he believed that bitter old man had every right to his anger.

Amestris was responsible for so much suffering, both inside and outside of its borders. Some of that suffering had been at Roy’s hands. Spitting at his feet was the least of what he deserved.

The veteran exited the streetcar at the next stop, still muttering. Riza watched him go, but Roy continued looking ahead, out the window. There were a few other passengers who stared at the two of them curiously, but they were easily able to ignore it.

“You alright?” Riza asked once some of the attention slid away from them.

Roy looked at her in surprise. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Riza hummed. “I’m just thinking about how you might have reacted to something like that when we were younger.”

“Depends on how much younger,” Roy chuckled. He used to be a much different person. They both did. Riza left it at that.

The streetcar was moving steadily downhill now, and as more people got on, they had to inch closer and closer together to avoid bumping into more strangers. Riza kept her free hand on the strap of her purse, elbow tucked tight to her body. Still, as they continued their descent through the streets of Santori, the swaying of the carriage ensured they bumped arms a few times. They pretended very hard not to notice it happening.

The way Santori was constructed, the water wasn’t visible from the heart of the city. It was almost like a little valley with cliff walls shielding it nearly all the way around, the highest to the south. The valley opened to the north, which became beautiful rolling countrysides Roy and Riza had admired on the train ride in. It also had a narrow opening to the south, and when the streetcar finally made it past the corner of the cliff, they finally got to see how the city spilled down almost right to the edge of the massive expanse of water. Then it vanished behind some buildings, and the two Amestrians glanced at each other, both unable to hide their giddy smiles.

Having lived their entire lives in a land-locked state, neither had seen the ocean except for in paintings or movies. So when they stepped off the streetcar at the pier, they both stood silent for a moment, lost in the vastness of it. It stretched for miles until it met the horizon, deep azure touching the pale blue sky.

To the east was the pier, bustling with people and seabirds as the docked ships swayed with the gentle rolling of the tide. To the west was a long expanse of rocky beaches and cliffs; from so far away the people swimming looked like little specks amidst the greenish-blue waves.

Roy shot Riza one more excited look before he set out towards the beach, and she wasted no time falling into step with him. Their pace had to slow as they hit the rocks, which came in various monochromatic shades but were tumbled smooth from generations of tides. The pair picked their way between the other beach-goers until they found an unclaimed spot maybe twenty feet from the waterline. Riza deposited her purse, and they both divested themselves of their socks and shoes.

The stones were hot under Roy’s bare feet, but he found he didn’t mind. “This is good sunbathing weather,” he commented, nodding to some of the people sprawled on blankets laid across the stones.

“Are you thinking of getting a tan?” Riza asked with a teasing lilt.

“No, but I might go for a swim,” he replied thoughtfully as he undid the first couple buttons of his shirt. “Let’s just have a stroll in the water, first.”

Riza kept a watchful eye on their things as they minced their way down to the water, which was blissfully cool and soothed their feet after the blistering stones.

A metre or so from the water’s edge, the stones underfoot became sand. Riza had to lift the hem of her skirt to avoid it dragging as they walked, while Roy rolled his pant legs up to his knees.

“When’s the last time you were at a beach?” he asked as he splashed along in the slightly deeper water.

She had to rack her brain for the answer. “During my academy years, I believe,” she mused. “Rebecca and I went and stayed at her uncle’s lakeside cottage over the break one year. Though I don’t know if there was enough sand to justify calling it a beach.”

“I think it counts,” he countered with a smile. “I suppose I can’t convince you to join me for a swim?”

Riza shook her head. “I’d prefer to stay on the shore. What happened to not wanting to ruin your clothes?”

Roy rolled his shoulders and waded in a little deeper. The gentle waves lapped at his trousers, soaking the fabric up to his knees. “Like you said, the hotel probably has a laundry service.”

She leveled him with a faintly amused but otherwise neutral expression. “Don’t drown.”

He shot back a winning smile and spread his arms. “If I did, would you come rescue me?”

She shook her head at him with a smile of her own. “Why should I? We’re off duty.”

He let his arms droop and he pouted in disappointment, but the fact that she was smiling was all the consolation he needed. She laughed at his expression and turned her back to him to continue walking along the shoreline, so Roy huffed in false exasperation and continued into the water until he was floating. He’d never been much of a swimmer, but there was something alluring about the ocean that drew him in.

It was so vast that it connected many countries, and despite the lives it claimed people would always come back to admire its beauty.

Roy thought about how the ocean was one percent sodium, an element that reacts explosively with water. Yet the sea would not explode, for the other elements combined with the sodium to temper its volatile nature, creating a stable solution that people liked to swim in for fun. He thought about how, with alchemy, he could easily isolate the sodium present in the water around him and incite a reaction that could… Well. He didn’t want to linger on that thought, so he moved on.

He thought about Riza, who had stopped walking to bend down and pick up a pebble from the surf. Roy found himself smiling again, watching her from a distance (he had been smiling a lot lately; which wasn’t unusual in and of itself, except that few of them had been performative) and thinking about the elements in his life that tempered him. She was definitely one of them.

While Roy was reflecting on compounds and gazing at the water around him, Riza had begun noticing and collecting little rocks that stood out to her. Most of the rocks were smooth and grey, but occasionally she would see red ones or speckled brown ones or even pure white ones. She collected them in the small well of fabric she created by lifting her skirt, remembering fondly when she used to wander around the stream by her house, picking up sticks and stones for no reason other than curiosity.

It had been such a long time since she’d done anything like this. She wasn’t there to do anything that mattered, nothing was riding on her success here. It was just a pleasant morning, picking up rocks just to admire the way they glinted wetly in the sun and the rough texture on her fingers.

She continued this for several minutes until she had a fairly sizeable collection, and only stopped when a man approached her from the beach holding a seashell in one hand.

The man was tall and tanned and probably older than Roy by a few years. He was shirtless and smiling; he had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and he spoke to her in Aerugonian.

“Is this for me?” she asked politely. “Sorry, _non parlo Aerugonio.”_

“Yes, is for you,” the man said, switching languages. He pushed the seashell towards her more insistently, so she took it, surprised.

“Thank you. You speak Amestrian?”

“I remember some,” he replied, wobbling his hand in the air. “I studied there before borders close; four years. I’m engineer. Strange country - I should have known you were Amestrian. A beauty of the north.” As he said it, he reached out to touch her hair, and Riza jerked back out of his reach.

“Please don’t touch me,” she said stiffly.

The man chuckled at her. “Sorry, sorry. You are so beautiful, I cannot help it. Is why I give you shell - so I might see you smile more.”

Riza’s fingers tightened around the shell in her hand, and she did not smile for him. “Well, I appreciate that, but I’m not interested. Have a good day.”

She turned to continue walking, but realized with aggravation that he was falling into step with her. “You come alone to Santori?” he asked, still giving her that same overly-friendly grin. “I show you all the best places if you like.”

“As I said before, I‘m not interested,” she repeated in an icy tone.

“Forgive me, _bella,_ I only want you to have best time here,” he said, and grabbed her hand.

She stopped where she stood and let her skirt fall, sending all the stones she had collected tumbling back down into the water with several tiny splashes. The hem of her skirt was now wet.

“You have three seconds to release me,” Riza warned.

Instead of letting go, the man enclosed her hand with both of his and gave her a saccharine look. “You are so cold to me, _bella._ Where is your smile from befo- AAGH!”

He interrupted himself with a shout when Riza twisted her hand in his grasp and firmly bent his fingers backwards. He quickly released her and fell back a step, now glaring at her. She returned the glare with a cool look.

From behind her, she heard splashing and a familiar smooth voice. “Everything okay, Elizabeth?”

Roy emerged from the water like some sort of majestic ocean spirit, his soaking wet shirt clinging to him in a way that left little to the imagination about his biceps. He stepped up beside her and slipped his hand into hers with a small squeeze. The two men locked eyes, and Riza could see the engineer doing calculations in his head.

“Who are you to the lady, my soggy friend?”

“Her fiance,” Roy lied. “Are we going to have a problem, here?”

The man shook out his aching fingers and grumbled something in his native tongue as he stalked away.

“I had that handled, you know,” Riza said lightly as they turned towards where they’d left their things. She considered stopping to gather her rocks again, but then decided they were frivolous and she needn’t keep them.

“I know, but I’m familiar with his type,” Roy said with poorly-concealed distaste. “The kind of man who respects another man’s claim to a woman more than he respects her words. You probably would’ve had to do more than bend his fingers to scare him off, and it’s best if we don’t cause a scene.” He squeezed her hand again, reminding her that their fingers were still intertwined.

“You’re saying you have a claim to me?” Riza asked with mild amusement. She squeezed back to indicate that she was teasing.

In response, Roy did something bold. He leaned close to her ear, and lowered his voice so that only she could hear his words. “It’s not your rank anymore, but you’ll always be my lieutenant.”

A warm fluttering feeling roused in her chest. She wanted to chastise him for his forwardness, but all she could think of was flirtatious words that she should most definitely not say aloud: _Just your lieutenant?_

Roy misread her silence as disapproval or rejection, and quickly retreated from her personal space. “Sorry,” he apologized, releasing her hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was presumptuous of me to-”

“Roy,” she interrupted. Now that she had his attention, she hesitated, unsure what to do with it. She settled on, “Of course I’ll always be your lieutenant,” with the hope that it would reassure him that she didn’t mind him overstepping his bounds - without inviting him even further past those bounds.

The smile that he gave her in return could thaw Fort Briggs with its warmth.

~~~

Later that evening, Riza could still feel the edges of lingering warmth in her chest from his smile even as she changed into her pajamas.

When she exited the bathroom, Roy was sitting up in bed, glasses on and book open in his hands, though he glanced at her as she switched off the ceiling light, leaving only the bedside lamp for illumination.

“Are you planning to steal all the blankets in the night again?” Roy teased as Riza joined him in the bed. They stayed on their respective halves, but this time Riza faced him as she laid on her side.

“I don’t mean to. I wasn’t aware I did that,” she replied. “I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in a few years, and it was never an issue back then.”

He considered this, gazing at the way her feathery blond hair haloed her head on the pillow and how her thick eyelashes framed her beautiful brown eyes. He wondered who the last person she’d shared a bed with was, and if they realized how lucky they’d been for that priviledge.

“Unless you count Black Hayate,” she added with a sly grin.

Roy laughed at that. “He’s still the only man for you, hm?"

Instead of agreeing like she normally would, Riza let her eyes flicker over his face, down his chest, and back up to his forehead. “Not the only man,” she said quietly, earnestly.

Hearing that did something funny to Roy’s heart. He knew she trusted him, she showed him that often enough in her actions, if not in words. She was always there, willing to be whatever he needed, whether that was a piece on the chessboard or a voice of reason. After everything they’d been through together, it should have been obvious that she was committed to him. Still, it was one thing to internalize and depend on the pattern, and another thing to hear her even barely acknowledge that he was important to her.

Whatever this feeling was, deep in his chest, it was too much to say out loud; Roy wouldn’t even know where to begin. He thought about tapping his fingers on the book to initiate their code, but he still couldn’t decide what it was he wanted to say. _I know? I’m grateful? I love you?_

Instead, he set his book aside and veered back to the previous topic as gracefully as he could manage in his distracted state. “What do you propose we do, then? About this blanket-stealing issue?”

Riza hummed thoughtfully. “Well, what if I were to...” She shifted closer to him, until she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, careful not to touch him still.

“And how will that help?” he asked as he removed his glasses and set them aside as well.

“You’re warm,” she stated. Her eyes slid shut and she let out a contented hum. “Won’t need the blanket if I have you.”

Roy pouted and slid down to be parallel with her. “So I’m just a space heater to you, then?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Light, please?”

He let out a put-upon sigh, but as he rolled over to switch off the lamp, he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Once he’d settled, still facing away from her, Riza shifted even closer in the darkness. Keeping her arms huddled in front of her chest, she let the only point of contact between them be her forehead lightly pressed against his shoulder blade.

They only ever got to touch each other when something bad was happening. They only ever held each other when one was in distress. Even today, when he had caught her from falling and taken her hand to send a message to the man on the beach, this had been the case. Perhaps that was why this innocent touch, her face to his back with no intention other than to feel him there, felt like breaking new ground.

They listened to each other breathe in the quiet shadow of the hotel room, both knowing that the other was awake but unwilling to disturb this fragile energy that flowed between them. The only thing keeping their skin apart was the thin cotton of Roy’s pajama top. If anybody from home caught them like this, there would be a whirlwind of consequences.

But no one barged in, no one flicked on the lights and yelled ‘AHA!’ No one was pointing a gun or a sword at either of them. They were just allowed, for this moment in time, to exist. Together. Alone. Bridging the gap between them, one small point of contact at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the beginning and end of chapter 4 written but I'm not sure if I'll have everything in between finished by next friday. fingers crossed, I guess?


	4. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold desserts and a daring rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to proofread and post from my phone because my laptop isn't working ;-; i'm glad I got it done in time at least, haha...
> 
> gelato is one of the things I miss most about europe. you CAN get it here but not on every street corner and not for cheap lol

When Riza woke, there was a foreign weight laying across her middle. She automatically reached for it to identify it, and when her hand met warm skin she realized it was Roy’s arm draped across her. He didn’t react to the touch, so she carefully rolled her head towards him. He was dead to the world still, his black hair mussed and limp across his forehead while a sheen of drool slicked the side of his mouth.

Riza cracked a tiny smile as she took in every detail of his slack, sleeping face; the loose curve of his cheekbones, the edge of his jaw where a faint shadow of stubble was beginning to show, the slope of his neck, and the relaxed part of his lips. He was objectively handsome when he was awake - put together and practiced in everything he did - but this was something else. He worked so hard to compose his approachable, laidback persona when Riza knew how much he stressed, how little he often slept, how much anger and guilt ate away at him in moments of weakness. Seeing him like this,  _ genuinely _ soft and un-threatening - vulnerable, even - it was almost hypnotising. She wanted to drink in every second of it.

After a moment he shifted slightly, inhaling deeply and unconsciously attempting to draw her closer. She waited for him to settle again before gently pushing his arm off of her waist and quietly slipping out of the bed. Her heart thumped erratically - she wasn’t sure she would ever become fully accustomed to the feeling of security that enveloped her when he had his arms around her.

They had a quiet start to their morning, neither of them mentioning the lack of blanket-stealing or the tentative cuddling as they got dressed and took their breakfast at the hotel cafe. 

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” Roy asked suddenly while they were eating.

“What’s that, Roy?” Riza humored him.

“Gelato,” he proclaimed, slapping the table for emphasis. 

“Gesundheit,” she said blandly.

“You haven’t heard of gelato?” When she shook her head, Roy smiled and propped his arm up on the table. “One of the girls at the bar grew up here - not here in Santori, some city more to the north - and she always said it was the thing she missed the most about Aerugo. It’s a type of dessert; Gabi always compared it to ice cream, but better.”

Riza considered this as she picked at the leftover eggs on her plate. “Sounds like a good thing to look for after lunch,” she suggested. “Is Gabi one of your… sisters? Or is she an employee of Madam Christmas’?”

Roy hesitated for a second, and he unconsciously glanced around for eavesdroppers. He loved his family, but he rarely talked about them for a reason. He knew he could trust Riza, but telling her details out in the open made him wary out of habit. “Sister,” he confided. “Aunt Chris picked her up off the street when she was seventeen; she’s I think twenty-three now. Her full name is Gabriella, but we all call her Gabi.”

Riza smiled. “That’s sweet. I don’t think you’ve ever told me the names of all your sisters, or even how many you have. I feel like I know everything about you except for this one thing.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure you know that’s by design.” It was to protect both himself and his family - it would be bad for his image if the public knew he’d been raised in a brothel, and it would make the bar a target for potential enemies Roy might make. “I have sixteen sisters in total,” he told her.

She raised her eyebrows. “I can’t imagine that. It must have been crowded.”

“Always,” Roy laughed. But not always with family, necessarily. Aunt Chris helps all kinds of people. There’s always someone being taken care of there; my sisters are just the ones who stayed.”

Something flickered in Riza’s eyes, and she smiled. “Your aunt sounds like a very kind person.”

Roy folded his hands together across his stomach and smiled back at her. “She is. I consider myself very lucky to have her. She asks about you a lot, you know.”

Predictably, her eyebrows lifted again. Roy could count on one hand the occasions in which Riza had met the Madam, but that didn’t stop his foster mother from pestering him about how his subordinate was doing. “Is that so?” Riza asked, surprised.

He nodded. “She likes you. Says I should bring you around more often.”

Riza finished the last bite of her breakfast and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. “Maybe you should,” she replied. “You could introduce me to all sixteen of your sisters.”

"Well you've met Vanessa and Alice," he pointed out.

They spent the rest of the morning chatting amiably. Roy regaled her with some stories from his childhood that he hadn't thought about in ages. It was as novel as it was nostalgic. They eventually shifted to exchanging tales from their respective academy days, and then hijinks with their team that had come together in East City. Roy was still laughing at Riza's deadpan description of the time Breda had accidentally eaten a piece of evidence as they were politely shooed out of the hotel café. 

After lunch, they went on the hunt for a gelato shop. It took ten minutes of aimless wandering before they asked a local for directions, who helpfully recommended a place nearby.

It was less of a restaurant and more of a stand, as the shopfront was nothing more than a counter with a register and a sign listing the flavours. Even so, there were about half a dozen people in line, and as the pair drew near a heavenly sweet scent reached their noses.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, they finally got to see the source of the smell. Behind the counter, an employee was making thin, waffle-like pastries. Roy watched curiously as the worker slid the pastry off the griddle and rolled it into a cone shape before passing it to her coworker, who scooped a generous amount of chocolate gelato into the cone and passed it to the waiting customer.

Riza ordered vanilla, and Roy went with hazelnut. When they were handed their desserts, the cones were still warm, melting the creamy gelato slightly where it touched the edges.

A few feet from the shopfront they paused to taste their acquisitions. The gelato was cold and soft and sweet, which contrasted nicely with the warm, brittle cone that cradled it.

"Amazing," Roy mumbled. "Gabi was right - this is way better than ice cream."

Riza hummed in agreement, savouring the sweetness on her tongue.

They continued to walk as they worked on the gelato cones. They were in an older part of the city now, with the buildings above them stretching to three stories, all chipped stone and wooden shutters.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Roy asked as they turned a corner onto a wider street.

"Yes," Riza replied honestly. "When we arrived I didn’t know what to expect, but this has been rather pleasant overall."

Roy smiled and licked a bit of melted gelato that had dripped onto his hand. "I agree. The city is so beautiful, and it's nice to spend time with you off-duty."

She nibbled on her cone to hide her smile. "You too, Roy," she said, slightly bashful.

Before he could say anything else, there was a moment, just a fraction of a second, where Roy felt his skin prickle and he knew something was about to happen. 

Ever since he had been exposed to the Truth, it had been so much easier for him to identify elements, their names and properties rising to the forefront of his mind even if it was information he hadn’t recalled in years. He was particularly sensitive to the air composition, since that was what he transmuted to perform flame alchemy. So when his skin prickled with warning, he had just enough time to realize:  _ methane, _ before a building about eighty feet from where they stood exploded.

Glass shattered outwards as the windows burst, and Roy dropped his gelato in order to lunge for Riza, bundling her tight to his chest to shield her from debris. All around them people were shouting and pointing, screaming and running. 

Roy glanced over his shoulder. Something about the sight of the old stone architecture, the red-hot tongues of flame that licked it from the inside-out, and the heavy plumes of black smoke rolling up into the sky froze him to his spot. Even from this far away he could feel the heat of the blaze gently press against his face, like the soft breath of a spurned lover come to taunt him.

He wasn’t wearing his gloves, he didn’t remember feeling his fingers snap, but still something whispered in the back of his head,  _ did I do that? _

The trance was broken by a Riza’s hand sharply tapping him on the cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to be considered a slap, but it shook him enough for him to look at her. Her eyes were steely and impossible to read, but whatever she was feeling, she was ready to move.

“We should help,” Roy said, but his voice felt miles away, like it belonged to somebody else. Riza nodded and Roy let go of her so he could spin on his heel and face the burning building. The smell of smoke reached him and he felt like it was invading him, taking over his lungs, his brain, his limbs. Doors to memories he didn’t like to touch began to creak open.

Despite this, he felt oddly calm. He’d been in so many perilous situations that the adrenalin kick was more of a light tap, and it put him into battle mode. He needed to analyse, strategize, and then  _ act. _ Whatever he did, he knew Riza would be right there beside him, watching his back. 

As he strode purposefully towards the building, he clapped his hands together and transmuted the fabric of his shirtsleeves into makeshift smoke-masks - leaving his arms bare - one of which he silently passed to Riza. Upon approaching, a young woman stumbled out of the single wooden door of the building, coughing and clutching a wailing child to her chest. Roy caught the woman’s arm and spun her towards him. The panicked look in her eye was one he had seen a thousand times before - it was the look of a civilian who was desperately,  _ desperately _ afraid.

“Is there anyone else inside?” Roy shouted to be heard over the crying child and the clanging of bells that had started up somewhere else in the city.

The woman babbled something in Aerugonian. The only words Roy vaguely understood were  _ mia madre.  _ My mother.

_ “Mia madre, mia madre, di sopra,” _ she sobbed.

Roy released the woman and pulled the cloth mask up over his nose and mouth as he entered the house. Riza followed at his shoulder, her hands itching for the gun in her purse.

The first level seemed untouched by the flames yet, but it was noticeably hotter inside, and smoke was pouring out from the stairwell leading up to the second floor.

“Can you use alchemy to put out the fire?” Riza called as they began ascending the steps, crouching to keep their heads out of the smoke. Still it burned their eyes and lungs even through the cloth. They could hear the rushing of flames now, the crackling and popping of burning wood.

“No promises!” Roy shouted back.

The room they found themselves in was unbearably hot and hazy with smoke. A quick scan of the wall told him that this was a kitchen, and that the fire currently engulfing three quarters of the room had originated from the gas stove in the corner.

The safest way to put out a gas fire was to deprive it of oxygen. Except, the oxygen present was already pretty thin, and reducing it further would also deprive the people in the room of it, and they rather needed it to stay breathing. The other, less ideal option was water. He would need to find the building’s waterline for that, though. Getting to the sink would be hazardous, but he could probably manage it if-

“Roy! There!” Riza’s voice cut through his thoughts and she grabbed his shoulder, pointing to a shape on the floor. It was a person, collapsed and unmoving, surrounded by flames and debris.

The building creaked and groaned from the strain of the fire as Roy leapt forward, ignoring the scorch of the flames in order to drag the person clear of the danger. She was either dead or unconscious - he couldn’t pause long enough to tell - but either way she was dead weight. Once he had pulled the woman over to Riza, the two of them together managed to get her up onto Roy’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“Is there anyone else?” Riza yelled.

“I think-” Roy was interrupted by the loud snapping and popping of wood breaking, and he felt himself get yanked aside just in time as a large, flaming chunk of ceiling dropped into the place where he’d just stood. “No time - move!” he ordered.

Riza pushed him towards the stairs, and they made their way quickly down and out of the building. They stumbled out into the cooler air, eyes and lungs and skin burning with smoke and heat. Riza guided Roy to a place where he could deposit the woman he was carrying. She was older, and she was still breathing, but it was slow and ragged. Her clothes were scorched black and she had very serious burns all over her arms and face. There was doubt in Roy’s mind that she would make it, but he ignored it and began yelling for an ambulance.

The woman from before rushed over, no longer holding her child, but Riza kept her back. The woman was crying, borderline hysterical, but Riza talked to her in a low, comforting voice until the fire brigade arrived with the clopping of hooves and the clanging of bells.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of shouting and horses, hoses spraying and cameras flashing as the press arrived. Roy stayed protectively over the injured older woman, while Riza consoled her daughter until some people she knew came to take over. When the medics arrived Roy moved aside to let them do their work, and he and Riza ended up drifting back together like magnets to a pole.

“We should go before the police try to talk to us,” Roy murmured to her, glancing over at where uniformed officers were beginning to do crowd control. 

“You don’t think we should stay and give a statement?” Riza asked in response.

He shook his head and began edging away from the commotion. “They’ll ask us to provide I.Ds and visas.”

She frowned but kept pace with him. “But we have all that. We’ve done nothing wrong,” she reminded.

“I know, but then they’ll know we’re military,” he explained as they ducked into a side street. “They’ll put our names in the paper. It’s too much attention, it’s a hassle, and I don’t want to deal with it.”

Riza maintained her frown. “Just because we’re not at home, doesn’t mean-”

“Please, Riza,” he said, looking at her with pinched eyebrows. His face was flushed from the heat of the fire and there were charred bits of debris clinging to his hair. “Let’s just go back.”

Something about his expression made her let it go, even though she knew it was irresponsible. She nodded, and as he turned to continue walking she slipped her hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. He returned the squeeze and began leading her through the streets, avoiding large groups of people as much as they could as they made their way back to the hotel. 

She understood why he wanted to avoid their involvement in the incident becoming official. This vacation had finally begun to feel like a pleasant fantasy, and he wanted to avoid bringing their reality into it. Normally Roy was never one to shy away from good publicity, but this was different. So far, their time in Aerugo had just been for  _ them. _ If their names were in the paper, if what happened got back to the generals in Amestris, then this vacation would no longer just be  _ theirs. _ Their normal life would have bled into it, leeching away what had made it feel special.

And it had felt special, Riza thought. Spending so much time together, for no reason other than that it was enjoyable to do so. She understood not wanting to lose that, and for once was silently grateful that he had not been persuaded to do the responsible thing.

They let go of each other’s hand just as the hotel came into view, and both ignored the stares they received from staff and patrons as they made the journey back to their room. 

Riza entered first, and deposited her purse on the desk. Behind her, Roy shut the door gently, and at the sound of the soft  _ click, _ they finally looked at each other. Along with the mild burns covering their arms and faces they were smeared in sweat, grit, and soot from head to toe. It felt surreal, two dirty soldiers in civilian clothes standing in the middle of a pristine hotel room they’d been sent to for relaxation.

They stood there staring at each other for a solid five seconds before Roy crossed the room to her and pulled her to his chest in an embrace. He couldn’t stand looking at her so dirty and disheveled like she’d just come off a battlefield. He still felt filled with smoke, the familiar acrid scent of it clinging to him the way he clung to Riza. She was hugging him back, but he barely registered it.

Fire and destruction seemed to follow him like a feral dog; he had fed it once, and so it would forever be nipping at his heels, begging for more. He wanted to feel good about what they did, but the smell of singed hair and lingering heat on his skin meant that all he could feel was the buzzing numbness that made its home inside his chest.

He hugged Riza knowing that she could never excise this feeling in his chest. Especially because she had been a victim of his fire herself. Still, there was a comfort in holding her, in  _ being held, _ that dulled the edges of the buzzing.

Riza could tell that the events of the day were getting to Roy. “You should shower,” she advised gently, her face tucked neatly against his neck. Feeling clean in body, if not in spirit, was typically a good place to start.

Part of her didn’t want to leave the embrace. The feeling of his arms around her, the soft rise-and-fall of his chest; it was even better than waking up with him loosely holding her in his sleep - this was deliberate. He  _ wanted _ to hold her. When he let go she didn’t resist, because even if she wanted it to last longer, she didn’t want to bring on any more flashbacks.

“Thank you,” Roy said, barely above a whisper. He wouldn’t meet her eye, and she didn’t know what it was he was thanking her for. He didn’t precisely know, either.

She ached to reach out to him again, to touch his hand, his face, brush the hair from his eyes, but instead she stood quietly still as he fled to the bathroom. The door shut between them, and Riza sagged. 

Fire was a tricky thing. Sometimes it cleansed, other times it tarnished. It was capricious and powerful, fascinating and terrifying. Fire improved the lives of all humans, yet ruined or claimed the lives of many. Was that equivalent exchange?

Riza turned on the radio and took a seat in an armchair. She stared, unfocused, at nothing until it was her turn to rinse the day’s ordeals from her body.

Their afternoon was steeped in silence and glancing looks intended just to remind themselves that the other was there and alive and safe. They applied burn cream to their tender skin and had dinner delivered to the room. They were finally able to shake the silence when Roy managed to spill water on himself, and the kneejerk, panicked reaction he had to getting wet sent Riza into a fit of inappropriate laughter. 

Luckily he managed to take it in stride, if only because it was the best sound he’d heard all day.

~~~

That night when they crawled into bed, Riza immediately snuggled up against Roy’s side. He turned towards her gratefully, and they paused for a few seconds as their eyes met in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

“You’re still a bit red,” Riza commented, breaking the tension.

“Thank you, it’s the first-degree burns,” Roy replied with a humorous quirk to his lips. 

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not really. I do hope it’ll go away by the time we go back, though. It’s so unflattering,” he lamented. “It’s bad enough that I have to wear glasses - those I can take off, but this?”

Riza smiled and rolled her eyes. “The glasses aren’t so bad. I think they make you look sophisticated. It’s handsome.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled. Then he regarded her for a moment, his eyes flitting about her face. “You’re rather beautiful too, you know. I feel like I could stand to tell you that more often.”

She blinked, surprised by that, and felt a bit of colour rise to her cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her beautiful, as it was a word he used rather loosely when talking to or about any woman, but there was something about the directness of it that got to her. He wasn’t putting on his playboy airs for anyone, or describing her to someone else, or talking about her alias Elizabeth. He was complimenting her to her face because he genuinely meant it.

“I appreciate that,” she replied, her tone more clipped than she intended. Though he seemed to understand that it was because she was flustered, because he smiled and reached up as if to touch her face.

At the last second he seemed to think better of it and pulled his hand back. Before he could withdraw fully, she caught his wrist and laid his palm against her cheek. The pleasant warmth of his skin bled into hers, bringing a sigh to her lips.

Roy accepted this, and even brushed his thumb gently over her cheekbone as he gazed at her with a slight pinch to his brow. She searched his eyes and found in their inky depths something like affection wrapped in hesitance.

“Why are you afraid?” Riza asked him softly. She had her suspicions (because she was also afraid) but she wanted to know the reason he he kept doing this - reaching out and then retreating.

It took him a second to answer. “Because I have to be,” he eventually murmured back. “You know how I am sometimes. I let confidence get the best of me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of my recklessness.”

She felt a twinge of guilt at that. It was supposed to be her job to keep him from doing reckless things, yet here they were in bed together, and she was encouraging him. “You couldn’t hurt me,” she reassured. There was so much more in those words that she wanted him to hear. She wanted him to know that he wasn’t a monster. That she trusted him. That she knew how, to him, harm to her was the same as harm to himself.

Still, he didn’t seem convinced. His thumb broadened its search, tracing the edge of her nose and pausing just before it met her upper lip. “Can I trust you to stop me if I go too far?” he asked, hushed.

“Of course,” she replied, matching his volume. “Where is the marker for what is too far?” 

They were teetering very precariously on the line of the fraternization laws. For the past couple days they had been slowly daring each other closer and closer to the edge. If he asked her to, she would willingly pull him back from the edge to what was safe and known. At the same time, she would just as willingly follow him over the edge if he jumped.

“Wherever you decide it is,” he said, shattering all pretense of professionalism. His meaning was clear: he didn’t care about the boundaries set by the law and society; he cared about  _ her _ boundaries. The look that he gave her made her breathless; it was achingly intimate and asked of her a question she didn’t know how to answer.

Riza felt torn. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him so badly since they’d been in the hospital together two years ago and he’d woken up from a nightmare feverishly calling for her. The urge then had been born out of the desire to soothe and reassure. Now it was something else, something that prickled and tickled the inside of her ribcage, something that seized her throat and dampened her palms.

“I need this - whatever  _ this _ is,” Roy murmured, once again misinterpreting her silence. “I need you to be in charge of it, because I trust you more than I trust myself.”

Riza’s heart ached, and she tugged his hand away from her cheek so she could interlace their fingers, hands resting between their faces on the mattress. “You know  _ I _ trust you, right?” she whispered. “And that you could never lead me where I wouldn’t willingly follow?”

“That’s what I worry about,” Roy whispered back woefully. 

She set her eyebrows in a firm line and squeezed his hand. “Listen to me. My loyalty has always been a choice. I could have walked away at any point if I wanted to, but I didn’t. And if I thought you were truly irredeemable, you would be dead.” She looked him hard in the eye. “You’re not evil, Roy.”

His troubled expression morphed into a wide-eyed look. For a moment Riza thought maybe she had miscalculated his internal logic, but then his fingers tightened around hers and he pressed his face into the pillow to muffle a laugh.

“Or maybe you’re just a bad judge of character,” he said wryly when he came up for air.

She let that hang between them for a second before replying, “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both compromised, at this point.”

They both started giggling at the absurd truth of the statement. They’d been compromised for  _ years, _ yet they continued to get away with it by some combination of subterfuge, luck, and strong, hard denial. 

Once they managed to calm down, Riza untangled their fingers so she would wiggle closer, tucking her head under Roy’s chin. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, and she let out a soft, contented sigh. It was a huge leap from the previous night’s tentative spooning, but it felt comfortable and right.

Roy felt a lump form in his throat as he closed his eyes and they settled into one another. Riza Hawkeye was many things: dedicated, decisive, perceptive, serious. Roy loved all those things about her. What she’d said made sense; it was in-line with who she was as a person. But he also knew that he gave her life meaning, and the implications of that terrified him sometimes. He had to wonder if her judgement was clouded. He never wanted to take advantage of her. She didn’t seem to think that he could, but Roy had seen the lengths she would go to for him, and the thought that she might ignore her own needs and safety for the sake of his selfish desire made his skin crawl.

Sill, he supposed, he hadn’t asked her to cuddle him, yet she had. As always, she was making decisions for him when he froze. That realization made him sigh, finally releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. 

He pressed his nose to the top of her head, and he breathed in the smell of the hotel’s shampoo as he began to drift into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 09-20-2020 edit: there were a few formatting things i missed when i uploaded this chapter originally, so those are fixed now and i also fussed with the wording of a paragraph in the final scene. i'm about halfway done with the next chapter sorry it's taking so much longer than the others ;^;


	5. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theatrics both onstage and behind closed doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long ;^-^ it feels like ages since i last updated, though i know that it's really only been a month. i guess i was just feeling proud of myself for managing to adhere to a weekly posting schedule, only to have my computer cop out on me and cost me some momentum (along with other real life biz but it's fine shh) which had me feeling a little disappointed. regardless, here it is! i'm excited to see the reviews :3
> 
> tl;dr thanks for waiting, i hope you enjoy the chapter!

For once, Roy woke before Riza did, his bladder yelling at him to get up. He groggily extricated himself from her side, careful to disturb her as little as possible, and shuffled to the bathroom.

Once he was finished washing up, Roy returned to sit on the edge of the bed. She had moved while he was gone, but still appeared to be asleep, chest rising and falling slowly as she laid on her side with her back to Roy. The blankets had come down around her waist, and as he quietly took in her peaceful form he noticed that the loose t shirt she wore to sleep was riding up on her hip. Just visible under the edge of the fabric, the pale skin of her side was interrupted by a coin-sized scar.

Impulsively, Roy reached out to brush his fingers over the discoloured tissue. He remembered the bullet that had given her this scar - it had been intended for him, after all. It had happened the year before, when he and his team had been attacked by radicalists in the east. Riza had pushed him down just in time, taking the bullet to save him from injury while Havoc apprehended the shooter. She didn't react to the touch, so Roy let his hand linger.

His eyes drifted to her upper arm, and he gently pushed her sleeve up to reveal several small, faded scars, thin lines she'd received in Ishval. Shrapnel, is what she'd told him when he demanded what had happened upon first seeing the stitches years ago. Roy thumbed over the scars, a small lump in his throat. He suddenly remembered what she'd told him when he asked her why she'd come to Ishval in the first place.

"To find you," she'd said simply as the campfire had cast grim shadows across her face, nineteen and haggard.

"Why me?" he'd asked, voice hollow.

Riza had shrugged. "You seemed like you knew what you were doing. It was the only thing I could think of."

Roy had clasped his fingers together and pushed them to his forehead as he sat in the sand, the cold desert night kept at bay only by the fire that danced in front of them. "It isn't how I imagined it," he'd whispered.

"No," she'd agreed quietly.

In the hotel in Aerugo, Roy let his hand wander even higher, until he lightly brushed the scar on her neck. Even two years later, it was jagged and raised; she often wore turtlenecks to prevent people from staring, but here in the quiet light of dawn it was uncovered and warm under his fingers. Of all the events that had scarred her body, this was the one that had brought her closest to death. Roy remembered the expression she'd had, the fear and frustration on her face as she'd wordlessly pleaded him not to give in to the enemy while she bled out in the centre of a transmutation circle.

He traced the outline of the scar, the way it followed the curve of her throat towards her back. The lump in his own throat grew as he trailed down the nape of her neck. Her hair fell to the side and the neckline of the shirt hung just low enough that Roy could barely make out the edge of the burn scar alongside aged red ink. He stopped short of the puckered tissue, lingering on the soft, unbroken skin just above it. He hadn't seen the burn in its entirety since it had finished scarring - he had helped her with it for a while when it was healing, but it had been so many years ago now that Roy forgot what it looked like. All he remembered was how much pain she had been in, the tears she had cried when he’d done it.

Each of the scars that she bore were because of him. This one more directly than the others, but Roy couldn't help but think that if she had never met him at all, maybe she would have carried less pain in her life.

It was then that Riza shifted, and Roy yanked his hand away.

"Good morning," she said as she rolled towards him. Her eyes were clear and sharp, which led Roy to believe with a sinking heart that perhaps she hadn't been asleep after all.

"Good morning," he echoed, hands now limp in his lap.

"What were you doing?" she asked. It wasn't an accusation, but he winced anyway.

"Sorry," he replied, mouth bitter with shame. "I didn't know you were awake."

Riza sat up, a frown tugging at her lips. "Hey," she said, drawing his gaze. "What's wrong?"

He stared at his hands, curling his fingers into loose fists. “I feel terrible for what I’ve put you through,” he murmured.

“Roy,” Riza said as she placed her hand over his. “Every step I’ve taken at your side has been my choice. You have to stop blaming yourself for decisions that  _ I _ made. It isn’t fair.”

He knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to himself, causing him additional guilt, and it wasn’t fair to her, stripping her of her autonomy by claiming responsibility for actions that were her own. “Will you let me apologize anyway?” he asked weakly, finally glancing at her through his bangs. “For your back, if nothing else?”

She shook her head fiercely, finally sitting up fully to kneel beside him on the bed. “No. I  _ asked _ you to do that. If anything  _ I _ should apologize, because I know it was hard for you.”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Roy protested, aghast. “I just want-”

_ “Roy,” _ she cut him off, actually glaring at him now, though her soft brown eyes were misted over with emotion. “I forgive you. I hated carrying that research. What my father did- he- I take comfort in the scars. They set me free. So I forgive you; I forgave you a long time ago.”

Roy blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears before they could fall. He wanted to protest, but the lump in his throat had him unable to speak. And if he were to try to deny her forgiveness, as undeserved as he felt it was, then he would be denying everything she’d done for him, for their cause. A thought swam to the forefront of his mind:  _ she’s incredible. _

Riza brushed a strand of his hair away from his temple and cupped his face. Her eyes were searching and insistent. “I thought you knew that,” she said softly. “That I forgave you. For all of it. I might have hated what you did with flame alchemy at first, but I know that you have always done what you thought was right, and that’s why I stand with you. Because I  _ know _ that you’re sorry. And I forgive you.” At that point she pressed her eyes shut and tears of her own began to leak from the corners. “So you don’t have to say it.”

Her hand fell from his face and he caught it, covering it with both of his own. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” he whispered.

She gave a tiny, dignified sniffle before raising her head to meet his eye and nod. Of course she knew. “But I protect you,” she whispered back. “Not the other way around.” With the hand not encapsulated by his, she thumbed away some of the moisture that had fallen onto his cheek.

That brought a smile to his face, and he gently leaned their foreheads together. “I know. And I’d be dead ten times over without you.”

“Fifty-two times,” Riza corrected. 

Roy let out a helpless laugh. He didn’t know whether she was joking or if she had actually kept track - he admired her either way. “You’re amazing. Fantastic, even. And that’s why I want to make sure I never hurt you again.”

“You couldn’t,” she murmured, pushing even closer until their noses brushed. “I promise, you couldn’t.”

Roy suddenly became aware of the thudding of his heart. This was far from the most intimate position he’d even been in with another person, but none of them had been  _ Riza. _ The girl who had watched him from doorframes and ducked out of sight when he caught her eye, the girl who had thrown a rock at his head for his stupid jokes, the girl who had trusted him, the woman who continued to trust him, the woman who did her job so well that hardly anyone but him realized how  _ gentle _ she was on the inside, the woman who would follow him to hell if that’s where he was headed. He was so in awe of her that he forgot how to not be nervous with their faces pressed so close together. This was something he hadn’t thought they would ever get to have.

"You should probably tell me to stop," Riza whispered. His warmth and his smell were so pleasant, she didn't want to draw away even though she knew she should.

Roy swallowed and slid his hand behind her neck, toying with the soft blonde strands of her hair between his fingers. "When have you ever listened to me?" he whispered back, teasing to hide his nervousness.

Still, it was permission. So Riza closed the remaining distance and their lips came together in the kiss they had waited fifteen years for. Roy reciprocated eagerly, and they quickly got lost in it, fumbling through the motions. 

They had been together so long that they could recognize what the other was feeling at a glance, they knew each other’s habits and patterns, but this was them learning each other in an entirely new way. For nearly an hour they got carried away in it, the push and the pull, the give and the take. She learned that his tongue was just as insistent in a kiss as it was in conversation. He learned that she liked to let her hands roam.

When they were interrupted, she was straddling his waist with his hands on her thighs as he kissed her neck, while her own hands were pushed up under his shirt to glide across smooth skin and taut muscle. There was a knock at the door, and they both froze. 

The knock came again, and they scrambled apart, each preening themselves to try and reduce evidence of what they’d just been doing. Riza’s heart was in her throat as her mind raced with possibilities as to who could be at the door. Had the police tracked them down to question their involvement with the fire the day before? Was it an Amestrian agent who had secretly been spying on them? Had this all been a trap? 

As she walked towards the door, the lock clicked and it opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in a long skirt with an apron and a cart of cleaning supplies behind her. Just the house-keeper.

The woman took one look at Riza and immediately began to close the door again, hastily mumbling  _ “Scuse, scuse,” _ as she did.

Roy sighed in relief, drawing his knees up and pressing his forehead to them. The paranoia of getting caught had returned with the force of a flying kick to the chest, and so he took deep breaths in an attempt to rid his system of the adrenaline. Riza leaned against the wall, her knees weak. She could still feel the ghost of his lips against her neck, and would hate to have to come to regret the memory if it had gotten them into trouble.

“I think that’s probably our cue to start our day,” she said wryly.

The look he gave her was displeased but resigned. “You don’t want to spend all day in bed with me?” he asked, patting the spot beside him invitingly. He knew they couldn’t, he knew she would refuse, but that was why he asked in the first place.

“As tempting as that is, Roy, neither of us have brushed our teeth, and we have to eat sometime.” 

He chuckled in response, and Riza let that sound carry her into the bathroom to get ready. When the door closed behind her, she felt a sort of giddiness rise in her chest, but she shook her head at herself and tamped it down. They had to be careful; she had to protect him from possible consequences of this. Still, she allowed herself to press her fingers to her lips and smile. She’d just been kissing Roy Mustang.

Meanwhile Roy sat in bed, resting his forehead against his knees once again, remembering the warmth of her skin under his hands, his lips. It felt nice to hold her; it felt right. The sound of the tap running pushed him to sigh and stagger out of bed with the intent to get dressed. The kiss had probably been a bad idea - now that he knew what she tasted like, he was going to be longing for it for the rest of the day. Possibly for the rest of time. 

When they traded places, Roy heading into the bathroom as Riza emerged to get dressed, he swooped in to kiss her cheek as he passed. She smiled and bumped his hand with hers but didn’t linger, to his disappointment. 

They left the hotel at their normal, measured distance from one another, but those inches apart suddenly felt like miles. On the way out of the lobby, Roy snagged a flier for a performance at a theatre in the city, and indicated they should attend. 

They’d been to the theatre together once before with the rest of their East City unit for Roy’s twenty-seventh birthday. It had been an enjoyable experience, so Riza did not protest the idea.

“How will we know what’s going on if the play is in Aerugonian?” she asked as they boarded a streetcar. 

Roy gestured for her to sit, then took the spot beside her. “I’m sure we’ll be able to gather clues from context,” he said. “If it comes to it we could craft our own narrative. Might be fun.”

She hummed in amusement at the thought.

The theatre was in the oldest part of the city, a remnant from when Santori had been a city state ruled by a monarch in centuries past. The arches were ornate and grand, and Riza took to admiring them as Roy purchased their tickets. The theatre itself was much larger than the one in East City, with hundreds of seats and balconies adorned with red velvet drapes. 

They took their seats, feeling a bit underdressed compared to the suits and glittering jewelry of the other patrons filing in around them. It was forgotten when the lights went down, however, and the show began.

From what they could gather based on context, it was a story of tragedy and passion; an obsessive father, sundered lovers, a dim-witted but well-meaning friend. Riza was surprised how easily she was able to follow along despite the language barrier. During one of the more emotional scenes between the leading lady and the father, Roy ran his fingers over Riza’s knuckles, and she realized her fists were clenched in her lap. The scene had made her slightly uneasy (the actor had no striking similarities to her own father, but she recognized well enough the way the actress made herself demure in his presence), and of course Roy could tell. She gratefully took his hand and allowed his strong, warm fingers to ground her. Even when the scene ended, they left their hands clasped together.

When the curtain dropped and the lights came up for the intermission, they had a small conversation about the play so far, and then Riza excused herself to the restroom.

Upon returning to her seat, she knew right away that something had changed in her absence. Roy still had a relaxed and casual posture, but he was rubbing his mouth lightly, lost in thought. He lowered his hand and smiled at her when she sat down. She sent him a questioning look, and in response he turned towards the young man on his other side, who had friendly green eyes and features that seemed more familiar to her than those of other Aerugonians.

“Riza, this is Ben,” Roy introduced. 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Riza,” Ben said politely, extending his hand. 

Riza shook it, surprised by his perfect Amestrian accent. “Just Riza is fine. Are you here on vacation as well?”

Ben shook his head and smiled at her. “No. As I was just telling your… um, as I was telling Roy, My father came here from Amestris before I was born, but I’ve never met anyone else from there, so when I heard you talking I wanted to introduce myself.”

Riza noted his self-correction, and wondered what he had presumed her relation to Roy had been, and what Roy had told him. She offered Ben a kind smile and said, “I see. Does your father still have family there? I imagine you could visit now that peace talks have begun.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, but I suppose you’re right!”

Riza exchanged a glance at Roy, and then the two of them continued to chat with Ben until the intermission ended. They avoided revealing what they did for work, and focused more on the cultural differences in Amestris and Aerugo, and what it was like for Ben to grow up with his split heritage. It was an interesting conversation, but it brought a certain wariness back to the soldiers as once again the illusion of them being in their own little bubble of paradise came down around them. The real world hadn’t stopped existing in the time they had lost to realizing how nice it felt to hold hands.

When the play took a turn for the grim and the well-meaning friend was killed trying to help the leading man, Riza saw the tight-lipped expression Roy was wearing. (Again, the actor bore no physical resemblance to Maes Hughes, but the rage portrayed by the leading man was uncomfortable in its familiarity.) She wanted to take his hand the way he had done for her, but his arms were crossed, and she knew that they should refrain from any more displays of affection.

The story had a somewhat bittersweet ending; the couple were able to run away and be together, but they left pieces of themself behind to do so. Roy thought of equivalent exchange. Every action has a consequence, every decision has a price. He and Riza had sacrificed a possible future together in order to walk the path they had set down on - had their kiss that morning then violated that exchange? Would equivalence come back to collect?

When the curtains came down for the final time and the applause gave way to chatter as the audience began slowly filtering out of the auditorium, Ben invited Roy and Riza to join him and his parents for dinner that evening. They politely declined, but Roy handed Ben a card with his phone number and said, “This is for if you do ever wind up in Amestris. If you find yourself in any sort of trouble there, call this number.”

Ben thanked him, and Riza smiled as they joined the crowd moving towards the exit. That was so like him, offering assistance to a kid he’d just met, on the very slight chance he might one day need it. No matter what anyone said about Roy, she knew the truth of his compassion.

The rest of their afternoon was pleasant but subdued. They had dinner at a new restaurant, eating outside at a wrought iron table surrounded by cobblestone streets and balmy summer air. 

“The first thing Ben did while you were gone was to ask me if this was our honeymoon,” Roy said randomly as he cut into his braised lamb.

Riza arched her eyebrow and twirled pasta onto her fork. “Oh? How did you reply?”

“I informed him that it was not, and that we were merely friends. He apologized for assuming, then we made introductions.”

Riza savoured the herbal flavour of the sauce. Roy was fishing for something here, trying to draw out an opinion or an observation from her, but on what she couldn’t ascertain. Subtlety was a strong asset that he possessed, but it sometimes made conversations with him frustratingly vague. “He seems like a good kid,” she said neutrally. “Probably only a couple years older than Edward, I would guess.”

Roy nodded in agreement of her assessment. “I do find it troubling, though.”

He declined to elaborate, so Riza asked, “What do you find troubling?” 

“That he would assume we were married.” His expression was smooth, but there was just the tiniest tightening around his eyes that betrayed his genuine concern. She understood his fear.  _ We’re too obvious, _ was what he was really saying.  _ People can tell. We’re slipping. _

“I’m sure most people would make that assumption about any man and woman who go to the theatre unaccompanied,” she said. “It’s not unusual for friends to be mistaken for a couple. We were able to clear up the confusion, so it’s alright.” 

Roy hummed, unconvinced. The fact remained that they were getting too comfortable around each other. It had been easier to ignore their feelings at home, where they had their set roles to fill and work to do. He had to wonder if going back to that after this easy companionship would be hard on them. Rather than voice his doubts, he focused on his dinner.

Riza stuck her leg out under the table, brushing his ankle with her foot. He glanced up at her, but she ignored him in favour of her own food. She nudged him again, and this time he nudged back. He fought a smile at the fact that they were playing footsie like awkward teenagers, and when he brought the conversation back around to the story of the play, she engaged agreeably. 

When they returned to the hotel, the sun was low in the sky, bathing the city in a glorious orange glow. Riza took a moment to peek out the window and trace the shadows cast by the nearby buildings before tugging the curtains closed again. Roy was standing by the desk, one hand in his pocket and the other tapping against the cover of his book thoughtfully.

“You seem distracted,” Riza observed, drawing his attention. 

He sighed and ruffled his hair, then perched himself on the end of the neatly made bed. “I’m just thinking that perhaps this wasn’t a very good idea,” he admitted, gazing at the bouquet that still rested on the desk. Without water, the soft petals of the flowers had begun to shrivel and wilt.

“It wasn’t,” Riza assured him, light-hearted. He frowned at her, and she joined him on the edge of the bed, close enough that their knees touched.

“I just mean that… after this, I don’t know if I can go back to pretending.” He lowered his head and rubbed his hands together nervously.

The romantic side of Riza wanted to say,  _ then don’t, _ but the logical side of her was louder. “You have a tendency to overthink things, as well as a flair for the dramatic,” she stated. “When we go back to Amestris, we will resume our workplace relationship, and you will focus on politics while I focus on making sure you don’t get killed. And when the workday is over and we go our separate ways home, I will lay in bed remembering this time that I got to spend with you where none of that mattered.”

Roy stared at her, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. The majority of that scenario made him ache, but the thought of her laying in bed thinking of him made his stomach drop - and not in an entirely unpleasant way. “That sounds terrible,” he managed to say.

Riza smiled at him. “That’s because you’re an idealist. What I just described is a realistic best-case scenario.”

She was right, and he knew it. He sighed again, and let his hand drift over to her leg, lightly stroking the fabric of her skirt. “So, I guess I should stop moping, to make sure our memories of this week are as nice as possible?”

“I think that would benefit both of us,” she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. He rested his head atop hers and continued lightly thumbing the fabric against her leg. “We have one more day left. Let’s not spend it worrying about the future.”

Silence settled over them like a light blanket. Eventually Riza brushed over the hand he had on her thigh, softly trailing her fingers up and down his forearm over his sleeve. She knew what he meant, about going back to pretending, and he was right that it would probably hurt, but these five days were better than nothing. Wasn’t there a saying about how it’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all? Or that a lesson without pain teaches nothing?

_ What will we learn from this? _ Riza wondered as Roy lifted his head and turned towards her, his intentions clear.

She kissed back smoothly, her arms winding around his neck as he cupped her cheek with one hand and her hip with the other. They kissed until the sun went down, lazy and hedonistic. They were determined to enjoy every bit of pressure, every brush of skin, every hum of encouragement. 

Eventually they dragged themselves away from it long enough to don their pajamas, though they didn’t bother changing separately. When he discarded his shirt she splayed her fingers against the old cauterized wound on his side, a gift from the homunculi. That day, she’d thought he’d died, and she felt a triumphant sort of satisfaction at feeling his body against hers in that moment, years later, knowing that he was very,  _ very _ much alive. She turned around to take her own shirt off, and after a moment of gazing at her back he gently kissed her bare shoulder and lightly rested his hands on her waist. The urge to apologize came over him again, but he resisted it valiantly.

They got ready for bed together this time, brushing their teeth side-by-side and testing the aftertaste of each other’s toothpaste when they were done. When they slid quietly under the covers, the kisses they exchanged turned gentle and chaste.

There was something burning in Roy’s chest, a need he didn’t have a name for. He caressed Riza’s side; feeling the sturdiness of her body reassured him that she was real, and present, and herself. “Riza,” he murmured against her cheek.

“Mm-hm?”

A dozen things to say popped into his head. _I love you. Let’s not go home. Marry me._ He couldn’t say any of them. She would probably shoot him if he suggested they elope, or at least kick him very hard. Instead, he asked, “Do you really think I’m dramatic?”

She laughed in surprise and pressed another kiss to his lips before pulling back enough to look him in the eye. “The only man I’ve ever met more dramatic than you is Edward Elric,” she asserted.

He clucked his tongue, chagrined. “I think I take offense to that.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She brushed his bangs away from his eyes and smiled, admiring him.

He hummed and admired her right back.

They fell asleep as a tangle of limbs, breaths soft on each other’s skin. If this was to be their last night, then they would spend it not letting go as long as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the friend who inspired this fic in the first place told me to go listen to Fools by Lauren Aquilina and i am passing that instruction on to you, dear reader, because it's incredibly relevant to this fic and ESPECIALLY this chapter


	6. The Final Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every vacation must come to an end. It's called "retirement," otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA IT'S HERE
> 
> i once again did that thing were i didn't look at my draft for a couple weeks then wrote 75% of the entire chapter in a day, lmao
> 
> this is technically the final chapter, though there will be a short epilogue. expect it by, mmm, friday. cheers!!!

The morning came quietly, with no great fanfare. The hotel room was warm - toasty, even, under the covers and pressed close to another body. In the dimness provided by the light trying to push through the cracks in the curtain, Riza’s eyes fluttered open and then shut again.

She was pressed against Roy’s back, holding him around the middle. They were close enough in height that even with their hips aligned she could still press a kiss to the back of his neck, so she did. He hummed drowsily in response and laced his fingers with hers in front of his stomach. For a few minutes they said nothing, just basking in the warmth of sleepy companionship.

Eventually Roy became conscious enough to remember that they would be getting on a train later that afternoon, and he turned around in her arms to be face-to-face. Her gaze flitted about his features and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. She melted against it and held the back of his neck to prevent him from pulling away too soon. They didn’t deepen it, aware of morning breath.

Eventually she allowed him to pull away and he shifted back enough to look at her face again, appreciating the soft glow in her cheeks and the adoring way she gazed at him with her big brown eyes. Long ago he had looked sadly into these eyes and known that she had become a killer, just like him, but there was very little trace of that deadened stare now.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along the soft curve of her jaw. She was still holding him and he could feel the strength in those arms. She could almost definitely kick his ass (he’d been slacking on his workouts the past month; she most certainly hadn’t) and it was kinda hot.

“Good morning to you too,” Riza said with a smile. She pressed a kiss to his nose, then trailed her lips down to his jaw, and he let out a soft sigh as she scattered affection across his neck.

“It’s our last day,” he said meaningfully, slipping his fingertips under the hem of her shirt and making her pause. “Is there anything else you want to do before we leave Santori? Anything that we can’t do at home?”

Catching his meaning, she gave up on kissing his neck in favour of simply pressing her face against the warm skin there. She could feel his pulse against her cheek, soft and fluttering. “I hadn’t thought about that, if I’m honest,” she admitted quietly.

“We don’t have to,” he assured softly, withdrawing his hand from under her shirt and smoothing it down her side. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask.”

She breathed a chuckle against his neck before leaning back and pushing back his bangs to look at his eyes. “No apologies,” she chided. “I haven’t thought to seek that sort of thing in so long it just didn’t cross my mind. I’d like to at some point, but not today.” 

Riza was a woman who valued preparation and caution. Roy respected that about her, and not only because it often saved his ass. He quashed down the sliver of disappointment he felt and rubbed her lower back.

“Okay,” he said, understanding. “I just don’t know when we’ll get another opportunity like this. It would be too risky at home.”

She kissed him briefly. "Then let's come back," she replied simply when she retreated. "In a couple years we'll take another vacation."

Roy quirked his eyebrows and stared at her, amazed at how easily she had come up with a solution. Perhaps she was right that he overthought things. “That seems so far away,” he murmured. “So much could change between now and then.”

Riza rolled her eyes at him. "Are you worried that  _ we'll _ change?"

"No," he answered honestly. "No, I'm sure that won't be an issue." Their relationship had been an anchor for nearly a decade now - no matter what obstacles they faced he always knew he could count on her to be there with his best interests at heart.

There was a lapse in conversation that they filled with wandering hands and gentle brushes of lips against fabric, lips against skin. 

“Would it bother you if I continued to - as you put it - seek ‘that sort of thing’ in the interim?” he asked hesitantly. He wasn’t nearly as promiscuous as the rumor mills would have one believe, but he was hardly celibate, either. For Riza, he would be willing to put an end to his occasional flings.

She thought about it for a minute, tracing meaningless shapes against his exposed shoulder. The thought of someone else in his bed, under him, cuddling him after (like she was doing now) elicited a feeling not of jealousy, but a sort of ruefulness. “I understand if that’s something you need,” she said eventually. “I don’t mind. It wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to stop if we can’t be together anyway.”

“I don’t  _ need _ it,” he protested. “It’s just nice. Every once in a while.”

Riza faked a gasp. “Don’t tell me the rumors are true, Mr. Mustang?” she teased. “That you’ve seduced every pretty lady from Central to East City?”

“Not every pretty lady, evidently,” he teased back. She blushed faintly pink and he brushed his fingers affectionately down the side of her face. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m  _ very _ seduced,” she quipped, proving it with another kiss on the lips. “You’ll have me another day, I’m sure.” She made the promise in a hushed voice, and it was Roy’s turn to blush. Warmth spread to his cheeks as he imagined it. 

Even with her permission, he might not sleep with anyone else ever again if only because from now on he would only be able to wish it were her instead.

They spent a good portion of the rest of the morning kissing languidly. They paused only to brush their teeth and otherwise freshen up before sliding back together. Riza attempted to memorize him with her fingertips. Roy attempted to swallow every pleased hum he could draw from her. Each minute that ticked past brought them closer to the moment they would have to separate and go back to orbiting each other from a safe distance, and from the way they held each other - tenacious and needy - it was clear neither wanted that moment to come.

Eventually they had to go have breakfast to settle disquieted stomachs, and though they were reluctant, their compromise was to discreetly hold hands under the table. 

“We’re supposed to check out before eleven,” Riza reminded as they finished eating. “We should head back upstairs and pack.”

Roy nodded, clearly unhappy.

‘Packing’ turned out to look a lot like more kissing. Riza had him pressed against the wall beside the bed, amazed at how pliable he was for her. His hands were gentle but his tongue was forceful, and he tasted of coffee, hot and bitter. 

She ran her hands feverishly through his hair and Roy felt like his heart might beat right out of his chest. They were so very good at breaking rules together, but for years this had been one that they had never dared touch. It felt like they were falling headfirst from somewhere very, very high up and as much as it terrified him that they would soon lose this, the taste of her chapstick made him curse the fact that they hadn’t sooner. It wasn’t the fact that it was peach-flavoured, it was the fact that it was  _ hers. _

When they broke apart, breathing heavily, she almost regretted turning him down earlier. But a glance at the clock confirmed what she already knew - it was time to go.

“Once we leave the room, we can’t be touching each other,” she said. The irony of telling him this while pressed bodily against him did not miss her.

“I don’t want to go,” he said longingly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I wish there was alchemy to stop time, so we could stay here forever.”

Riza’s chest ached, and she laced her fingers behind his neck to pull him down for another kiss. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I know,” he sighed, winding his arms around her middle. 

They stayed like that for another minute, just embracing. Neither wanted to let go, but both knew that they should. Eventually they pulled apart in unspoken agreement and returned to packing up their things.

“I wish I had kept one of the rocks from the beach,” Riza confessed as she latched her suitcase. She would have liked to put it on her windowsill, a reminder of these amazing five days.

Roy glanced at her. “We have a few hours before the train leaves, we can go back and grab one.”

Riza blinked, then shook her head, self-conscious. “No, that’s alright. It’s silly. It’s a long way to the beach, and we still have to get lunch.”

Roy approached her with a sparkle in his eye, and she cocked an eyebrow at him when he took her hand in both of his. “Riza,” he said, very seriously. “We  _ will _ get you that rock.”

Her laugh faded into a fond smile. It was such a small thing, a rock to remember Aerugo by, but he wanted to give it to her anyway. He was always giving, whether it was flowers, money, phone numbers. She knew that in general he saw it as an equivalent exchange - buying loyalty, buying favors - but she also saw the way he smiled whenever someone accepted one of his gifts, genuine and pleased. If he wanted to give this to her, then she would not object, if only so she could see him smile.

They sat next to each other on the streetcar, knees touching from proximity, and it took every inch of Riza’s willpower to not loop her arm around his and lean on his shoulder. Roy’s hands were folded tightly in his lap, resisting a very similar urge.

When they reached the pier and started towards the beach, Roy slipped his hand into hers, causing her to shoot him a look.

“In case your friend from before hangs around here often,” Roy explained, leaning over to whisper. “He thinks we’re engaged, after all.”

“I appreciate the excuse,” she whispered back.

He chuckled and they continued walking until they reached the surf. Riza hunted around for a rock she liked while Roy watched with his hands tucked into his pockets. When she found one she was happy with, he gestured for her to show him. It was small, smooth, white, and shimmered in the sun. 

Admiring the almost perfectly oval shape of the pebble, Roy was suddenly struck with an idea. He pulled his hands from his pockets and put them together in front of his chin in a gesture he sometimes made, hoping that it wouldn’t be too obvious what he was doing. He felt a ringing in his head as alchemic arrays flooded his mind, and he held out his hand for the stone.

“May I?”

Riza willingly placed it in his palm, and he curled his fingers around it. Blue alchemic lightning flared around his hand for a second as he reshaped the silica, and Riza’s eyes widened. After only a few seconds, the light died down and Roy uncurled his hand to reveal the results of his transmutation: the pebble now bore the faint shape of a heart. It was subtle enough that it could have occurred naturally, but still unmistakable in its symbology.

Riza took it back and examined it. The surface was still smooth when she rubbed her thumb across it; there was no trace that it had been altered with alchemy. She closed her hand around it and looked at Roy. “A bit cheesy, don’t you think?” she teased, trying to distract from the way her heart fluttered at the gesture. 

He grinned and offered his hand again. “I can change it back if you don’t like it.”

She held her hand out away from him, shaking her head. “No. I love it. Come on, or we’ll miss our train.”

Lunch was at a small cafe near the beach. Roy fell in love with the white sauce they put on his sandwich, and lamented the fact that he hadn’t discovered it sooner in their trip. Riza privately asked the waiter for a container of the sauce to take away, and Roy pretended not to notice her slipping it into her purse.

Just before they reached the train station, Roy tugged her into a sidestreet where they were hidden from view of the crowded thoroughfare.

“One more kiss,” he pleaded, hands grasping her arms.

“It’s too risky,” Riza argued, contradicting the way she was snaking her hands up his shoulders and around the back of his neck. 

He grinned, knowing that he’d won, and she rolled her eyes but leaned up to kiss him anyway. The lingering aftertaste of the sauce was admittedly pleasant and his lips themselves were captivating in their insistence. The worst thing was that it didn’t feel like a goodbye, even though she knew that it was.

When she broke away, she pushed her forehead against his and gently thumbed his neck. “Will that tide you over?” she asked, breathless.

“No,” he answered.

“Me neither.” She smiled at him, and he smiled wistfully back. Once again, neither wanted to let go.

The sound of a train blowing its whistle forced them apart. Riza fixed her hair while Roy rubbed away any residue left by her chapstick. They held each other’s gaze for another long moment, before Roy steeled himself, nodded, and led the way out of the dim alley. For the first time since they arrived, Riza took care to stay a measured distance from him.

Tickets and IDs were shown, and the two of them stepped up to the door of the train, luggage in hand.

Roy took a moment to look at Riza, really look at her. Her hair was up, pins in place to make it neat and professional as ever, and she was wearing a flowy blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers. The only woman on the platform not wearing a skirt, by the looks of it. She stood with her back straight and her chin high, confident but not prideful, resolute but not inflexible. She had been at his side for so many years, had saved his life so many times (fifty-two, if she was to be believed) and he knew without a doubt that he trusted her with his whole heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, and above all, he knew she felt the same. 

“Are you ready to go home, Captain Hawkeye?” he asked.

She wasn’t. “Yes sir, General Mustang.”

Just like that, their identities slammed back down onto them with all the weight of an avalanche. They were no longer just two people on vacation in a foreign country, delighting in the novelty of the scenery and of each other’s touch. They were back to being soldiers, co-workers, superior and subordinate. Roy nearly cringed at hearing her say ‘sir’ again. It had only been a few days since she’d stopped, but with the way he’d forgotten it was almost like she had never called him that at all. Like they had been equals since forever.

Burying the yearning deep inside his chest, Roy nodded and stepped aboard. Riza followed, eyes pinned to the fabric stretching across those broad shoulders. She would once again have to accustom herself to resisting the urge to lean in towards his warm, inviting form.

They sat opposite to each other on the train.

“This was really nice,” Roy said after the train blew its final whistle.

Riza nodded in agreement. The train began to move.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” he continued, though he was gazing out the window now, playing the part of a relaxed but disinterested general making idle conversation.

“We can’t spend all our time gallivanting on vacation, General,” Riza replied, settling back into her role as the stern adjutant. “We still have a lot of work to do at home.”

“Not right away, of course,” Roy amended. “But the next time I go out-of-country you’ll come with me, won’t you Captain? To keep me safe if nothing else?”

He glanced at her then, and she saw in his eyes the familiar turning of cogs, his inner machinery starting to turn and tumble as he began a new scheme. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she knew that somehow, Roy - her clever, devious,  _ foolish _ Roy - was going to make good on their plan to do this again. To get away together, away from prying eyes and demanding jobs, away from the roles and pretending and saving face. They would steal the chance to hold each other, to have each other, in a way they never could at home.

Riza simply nodded, and folded her hands politely in her lap, trying to disguise the excited leap of her heart.

“I look forward to it greatly, sir.”


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our brave soldiers return home to face the Fuhrer and march forwards.

“So,” said Fuhrer Grumman, twisting the end of his moustache in a conspiratorial manner. “How was your vacation?”

Roy was standing in front of the Fuhrer’s desk like he was giving a mission report. Riza stood at his side - as always. “It was fine, Your Excellency,” he answered. “The weather was a bit warmer than I’m used to, but we were able to adjust.”

“Good, good. I hope you found your accommodations to be satisfactory?” Grumman smiled in that wily old way of his. Roy clenched his jaw. The fact that they had actually kissed (‘kiss’ felt like such a tame word for what had felt so revolutionary in the moment) needed to remain a secret, as much as it pained Roy to pretend that it had never happened.

“Respectfully, sir, it was sabotage,” Roy said, voice carefully controlled so as not to betray the irritation he felt despite the fact that he had come to appreciate the sabotage over time. Grumman had made allusions to the two of them being in a relationship in the past, but to deliberately put them in that situation… “Your sense of humor could have gotten us into a lot of trouble.”

“Ho, is that so?” Grumman twisted his moustache some more and turned to Riza. “What do you say, granddaughter?”

“I agree with the General, Your Excellency,” Riza replied courteously, though she couldn’t fully hide the annoyance at the familiar address. “You put us in a very awkward position.”

Grumman waved his hand. “Ah, I don’t need to hear the details of all the awkward positions you were in,” he said, making Roy flush at the insinuation. “As long as you had a good time. Well, I do believe you two have a lot of work to catch up on, so I won’t take up any more of your time. You’re both free to go.”

Roy and Riza both clicked their heels and saluted, though she was outwardly less flustered than he was, and they both turned to leave the office.

“The gall of that man,” Roy muttered once they were out in the corridor. “He needs to hurry up and retire.”

“You should probably wait until your next promotion before you go wishing for that,” Riza advised.

They walked back to Roy’s office in agreeable silence, a measured distance apart. From the outside, anyone would say they were nothing but dedicated coworkers, loyal soldiers and war heros. The lady-killer Mustang had no chance with the frigid Hawkeye, adjutant or not.

Time went on, and in certain moments, they would allow themselves seditious indulgences. A shared look from across the command centre. A lingering brush of fingers when passing each other files. Coded messages left on desks or slipped into pockets or boldly spoken aloud, disguised as casual conversation. And when the workday was over and they went their separate ways home, they each laid in their own beds and thought of the days they had spent together where they had been free to touch each other and none of it mattered. 

And if their vacation days just so happened to coincide every now and then, well, that was just coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty all so much for reading! all things considered i'm pretty happy with this fic and i'm glad i saw it through to the end. cheers! <3


End file.
